Demon Kissed - Katie May Page 0,8

avoiding eye contact.

“Please,” I whisper, not above begging to save myself. I need to stay alive for Adam; I’m the only one he has. The acid in my stomach sluices around when instead of stepping away, the strange man ventures even closer.

“Akor,” the angel-winged man snaps, stepping away from the discarded pile of letters. “Don’t tease the human.”

Human? The fuck?

“Just take whatever you want and get out,” I repeat. Is Adam okay? Did he make it to Mrs. Johnson’s house? Did he actually listen to me for once?

“Sweet, innocent, girl.” The man with the mohawk standing above me—Akor—clicks his tongue. “So sweet. So innocent.”

Terror like no other courses through my veins, and I scramble to my feet, racing towards the phone. I’m dimly aware of Akor (what kind of fucking name is that?) laughing raucously as another one of the men scoffs.

I just need to get to the phone and dial 911. I just need to talk to the police. My hand closes over the receiver—

Just as a new pair of large arms clasp around my waist, pulling me against a hard body.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, little one,” Akor taunts from in front of me, tossing the empty coffee pot to his smartly dressed friend, who glares at it with disgust before daintily placing it on the table.

The fear I originally felt? That quickly transitions into icy anger, so potent I can practically taste it. With a fierce battle cry worthy of a fucking Oscar, I spin in the newcomer’s arms, pull back my leg, and kick the asshole as hard as I can in the nuts.

I full-on Simone Biles that shit—I swear my legs do the splits because he’s just that tall. Have you ever seen someone Dutch Dance before? That’s how high I kicked.

“Fuck you!” I scream as his eyes widen in panic, releasing me instantly. The fifth man—a fucking giant—falls to his knees and stares up at me through a fringe of thick, ebony lashes as his face creases with pain. Laughter erupts from the four men behind me, but I’m already running.

If I can make it to the front door…

If I can escape…

“I’m afraid we can’t let you leave, sweetheart.” The gorgeous man with auburn hair and the full sleeve of tattoos is suddenly behind me and hauls me backwards.

I scream, digging my heels into the ground in a desperate and futile attempt to escape him. But he’s strong. So much stronger than me. And he smells really, really good, though I know I shouldn’t be thinking about that when he’s trying to fucking murder me and eat my insides.

Is this how I’m going to die? In my very home at the hands of these five men?

Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Enough! Van, release her!” the mail-thieving heathen snaps, and I begin to realize that he’s the leader of this merry band of psychos.

The supermodel—Van, apparently—deposits me onto the armchair opposite the couch. Immediately, crazy Akor flops onto the floor in front of me, leaning his bare back against my legs.

“Nice and cozy,” he purrs, tilting his head back to offer me a wink.

“What-what are you doing here?” I stutter out, trembling. “What do you want from me?”

“I believe the better question is what you want from us,” Van snipes, eyeing me distastefully, as if I’m the one who broke into their house, terrorized them, and is now holding them hostage.

Ugh. Even with that asshole expression, he’s still hot. Part of me hates him just for that…well, in addition to the whole “about to murder me” thing.

“You asked for us,” the dark-skinned man in the suit replies with a soft smile. “And we came.”

“I don’t know you!” I protest immediately.

The fifth man takes a step closer, and I automatically tilt my head back to meet his piercing, glacial gaze. This guy…this guy is fucking massive. And I totally just kicked him in the balls. His dark hair is artfully tousled and frames a lightly tanned face. It appears as if even his muscles have muscles…and those muscles have even more muscles. He’s probably the type that names them all. His right bicep? That’s Betty. His left? Gertrude.

It’s official. I’ve lost my mind.

He doesn’t speak, continuing to watch me with unnerving intensity, his eyes as dark as his pitch-black soul.

He’s going to kill me. He’s totally going to kill me. I just kicked that giant in the nuts. Well, it was nice knowing you, world. Send me a postcard.

The sarcasm leaves when Adam’s face